Perfect always takes so long because it don’t exist – Jeff

On Giving Up

On my desk, you will find an index card, deep in a pile of discarded ideas. This card is undated and consists of six words. 

“Giving up

• twitter piece
• shat pants”

Self. Explanatory.  

On my desk, you will find loose refill paper. On it, scattered bullet points, one-liners, and pointless paragraphs all sit under the title “giving up.” It was written mid panic attack, and it shows. It is some of the worst writing you will have ever seen. After a few pages, it ends with “wow okay.” 

On my desk, you will find a fresh journal with one piece inside titled “giving up!” It’s fairly well written, but ends too abruptly, this time in “god damn it.” 

Aside from the fact that it is hilarious I’ve given up on a piece about giving up three times over the past few months. 

That’s a funny sentence. 

On the idea that no one actually knows what they are doing

I mean this in the kindest, most optimistic way possible, but everyone on earth kind of sucks, just a little bit!

Don’t get me wrong, I think people are great. Most people. I just think at the same time, we all suck. I’m essentially saying no one is perfect, but I’m using my writing skills to make it sound less cliché. Still need to work on my exposition. 

As a little lad (a few years ago), the idea of having a grown-up job was somewhat impossible to wrap my head around. So much responsibility, so much that can go wrong. How will I ever actually be able to participate in society when I’m bound to make a mistake?

These days, I see headlines about our long-awaited sports facility in Christchurch, and how it is SINKING, and I think “oh no, it’s okay, adults can be dumb.” Adults can be really dumb. In fact, I’m almost fully convinced that no one on Earth has a single clue what they are doing. That is an exaggeration, obviously, but I stand by it. All it takes is a glance at the headlines to see it. It feels like everyone is just guessing, sometimes making it across the line, other times falling flat on their face, never a clue as to how one or the other happened. 

Who is in charge of the sports facility, and WHY is it sinking. I read the article, and I understand. But are you serious? Who is in charge? Who picked the team? Who picked the people picking person? It’s sinking? Who even is qualified for anything? This week, my third physio in two years said “oh, I can’t believe I didn’t notice that” to me and my back. I’m over it. I am. 

My point from all of this, aside from the fact that everyone kind of sucks, is that everyone kind of sucks, and that gives me permission to suck a little. This is the most angsty thing I have ever written. But remember the beginning, I say all of this with optimism. I’m actually a pretty positive guy. You suck! 

With love. 

Jame. 

On WORRY – my therapy dog

WORRY. Jeff Rosenstock. One of the four albums that I call my favourite of all time. Look anywhere online and you will find it listed by literally every single person on earth as the pop-punk album of the last decade. Even if you despise the idea of punk rock, you will find something to appreciate in this project. Jeff reflects on art, the internet, death, love, and even spends one or two tracks on light politics! It has everything you love to get angry about, pre-packaged for you to scream through Jeff’s irresistible hooks. 

The best track, and the track I tell people is my favourite song of all time, is the opening track We Begged 2 Explode. This is irrelevant to the piece. The second best song, and the one I may even say is my second favourite song of all time, is the closer, Perfect Sound Whatever. 

I hold this song so close to my heart that I’d probably stop functioning if you took it away from me. It’s got a simple message, there’s no such thing as perfect. And it means it in the kindest, most optimistic way possible. Creating something perfect is impossible, everything is going to make something that kind of sucks, even just a little. And it doesn’t only apply to what we make, it applies to us as we live our lives, and that is something I take encouragement from. 

If I’m feeling sad, anxious, panicked, hopeless, restless, lonely, or other sad adjectives, I listen to this album. It is the closest thing I’ll ever have to a therapy dog. I wrap myself in my headphones, close my eyes, and let WORRY take over. 

Not sure if I like this piece. It is a bit aimless. I don’t really explain much. Ends kind of abruptly. Sentence fragments. I give up for today. But will give it another go tomorrow.